


Support

by LivingOnline



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Break Up, The Keating 5 Being Actual Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 05:16:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8274245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivingOnline/pseuds/LivingOnline
Summary: The rest of the Keating 5 hear that Connor moved out of Oliver's apartment and offer their comfort.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first work ever, it hasn't been read by anyone else. I can't ensure quality content or formatting, but give it a chance? Con-crit welcome! Let me know what you think!

Michaela and Asher:

Who the hell would be here at this hour? Asher had just about finished stripping her when the 3 tentative knocks echoed through the apartment. Ignoring Asher’s complaints, (“Just leave it! It’s probably a Jesus salesman!) she hurriedly tied her robe and opened the door, shocked to see a wrecked-looking Connor on the other side. 

He was holding a framed picture and two bags, looking as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. With some horror, she noticed his red, tear-filled eyes. She knew what had happened before she even asked, but she could barely believe it. She had to be sure.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Can I crash here for a while?” he responded, voice shaky. 

Her heart sank at the confirmation of her suspicion. Oliver must have kicked him out. She nodded and stepped back to let him inside. He stopped inside the doorway, which was when Michaela remembered that Asher was still there. Shit. She definitely felt some shame as she admitted to Connor, “…We’re screwing.” 

Connor barely reacted, only muttering a quiet ‘Okay,’ which aroused her concern even more. 

At this point, Asher seemed to notice something was wrong as well, and the smug smile slipped from his face. 

“What’s up, Walsh?” he asked, hesitantly. Even he knew this was no time for kick-ass nicknames.

Connor swallowed a few times before forcing out in a choked voice, “I’m not getting him back.” 

Michaela’s chest ached for her friend. Connor was more in love with Oliver than she thought she’d ever been with anyone. To have that relationship destroyed- especially what he’d admitted was his first and best relationship- must have broken him. 

She reached out and lowered his bags to the ground, slipping the picture from under his arm to lean against them. Gently, she gripped his arms below the shoulder and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Connor.” 

He sucked in a short, quivering breath at these words, obviously trying to prevent more tears. Michaela couldn’t stand to see him like this. She leant forward and wrapped him in a hug. 

That was the end of his self-control. His face twisted and dropped to her shoulder as his hands came up to cling to her desperately. Michaela felt his quiet, huffing sobs against her chest and rapidly dampening shoulder, feeling tears flood her own eyes in reciprocation. 

Asher, unsure how to proceed in the face of his bro’s anguish, stepped up to place his hand on Connor’s shoulder. 

They stayed that way until Connor calmed down enough for Asher to offer whisky. 

 

Wes:

Wes wouldn’t say he was very good friends with Connor Walsh. Sure, they were closer than your average colleague, but it was more of a relationship of convenience and close proximity. 

That being said, he had to notice when Connor shuffled into class looking like he hadn’t slept at all the night before. He’d not hung around to chat with Wes and the others the way they usually did before Annalise showed up. He just moved straight to his seat and slumped his head into his hand.

Wes shot Connor furtive glances throughout the class, watching as he seemed to barely pay attention, scribbling idly in his notebook. This was unusual for Connor. Had something else happened between him and Oliver? He’d just won his case, shouldn’t he be happy? 

He was so caught up in these thoughts that he completely missed the chance to analyse the ‘Call Girl Creeper’ case. Oh well, he was happy for Michaela; he’d already had his case after all.

Since he spent so long stewing in curiosity, Wes figured he may as well go with Connor to Annalise’s and ask him what was wrong. Maybe the walk would encourage him to open up.

When he finally spotted Connor, he jogged to catch up and fell into step beside him, opening with a cheery, ‘Hey!’

Connor barely glanced at him, huffing, “What do you want, Waitlist?” 

Wes decided to just come out with it. He could ask about his sort-of-friend’s wellbeing, right? 

“Are you okay? You seem a little off today.” 

Connor’s shoulders stiffened and he uncomfortably tugged at the hem of his t-shirt. 

“I’m tired, it happens, especially when you’re sleeping on a couch.” He snapped. 

Wes was immediately taken aback. 

“A couch? Why are you sleeping on a couch?” 

“Oliver kicked me out, okay, it’s properly over now.” Connor grumbled. “I’m crashing with Michaela til I get my own place.” 

Wes probably knew Oliver the least out of all the five, but he did know Connor. From the way Connor spoke about Oliver- and how often; Connor managed to bring him up several times a day- their relationship was hardly loveless. 

The fact that Oliver had completely kicked Connor out was suspicious, in Wes’ opinion, but he would focus on that later. Connor’s shattered look obviously wasn’t just from a night of poor sleep. 

Wes clasped a hand onto Connor’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, that’s terrible. If you ever get sick of hanging out with Michaela, Meggy and I would be happy to have you over.”

Connor grimaced, but made no move to shift away from Wes’ hand.

“Thanks but no thanks, there’s only so much heterosexuality I can stand.”

Then he smirked like he had a secret, and moved away towards his car. 

Laurel: 

Between struggling with her feelings for Wes, her feelings about her father, and her feelings for Frank, Laurel had had an emotionally exhausting few days.

She’d resolved to go and find Frank as soon as she could, but her father wasn’t a very nice man. He never had been; she could never trust him when she was young, so what reason did she have to trust him now? For all she knew, he could be lying about Frank’s location and sending her on a wild goose chase to teach her a lesson about men. 

She’d have to go to Oliver. He knew how to hack, maybe he could back up her dad’s information, and if not, actually find Frank?

Now that Oliver worked in their building, she could ask him herself, but Connor was right here. Besides, she had to catch Wes before she left, and hopefully talk about what was going on with her father. She didn’t have time to hang around campus right now.

Connor was fumbling around in his bag for his car keys nearby and didn’t look up until Laurel was beside him. 

“Hey, Connor! Just letting you know I’ll have to stop by your place later, I need Oliver’s help.”

Connor frowned at mention of Oliver, confusing Laurel. Weren’t they still friends? Maybe he was just still sore about the break up? 

“Don’t worry, I won’t stay long, I just need him to check something out for me. It’s about Frank,” she was quick to reassure him. 

“Laurel, I don’t live there anymore, Oliver kicked me out a couple days ago.” Connor confessed, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. 

What?! It had only been a few days! In his quest to get him back by the end of the week, Connor must have done something that made Oliver uncomfortable.

“Oh my God! What did you do?” Laurel gasped.

In a second, Connor’s face changed from awkward to irate.

“I didn’t-“ he snapped, then paused. He seemed to think for a second, then his eyes widened in realisation and he confessed, “I … I kissed him. I kissed him and I asked him…and he said no. It was my fault; I should have given him space.”

Connor closed his eyes and took a deep, slow breath. Laurel’s hands flew to her mouth in sympathy, watching Connor struggle. 

“Oh no…no it's okay...come here” she whispered, and pulled Connor into a gentle hug, which he accepted but didn’t return. 

He leant slightly into her arms for a moment, then pulled away and cleared his throat, forcing a smirk. 

“So still no luck with Frank then? He’s lucky, he managed to get out. Annalise probably has a hitman after him as we speak.”

The moment was clearly over.


End file.
